


The conversion of a sinner

by TechnicolorMagicWoman (bymak)



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Most likely there will be some levels of violence mentioned (it is Zelda and Mary after all), Post-Season/Series Finale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-22 01:40:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30031059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bymak/pseuds/TechnicolorMagicWoman
Summary: I've read somewhere that one of the greatest desires of God is the conversion of sinners, so the poor sinners will renounce their sinful lifestyles and return to God.... perhaps the Goddess does like some converted sinners of her own, and sweet Zelda, simply can't say no to her Goddess.
Relationships: Zelda Spellman & Mary Wardwell | Madam Satan | Lilith, Zelda Spellman/Mary Wardwell | Madam Satan | Lilith
Comments: 13
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I know I should be writing and posting on the other one, but words are not flowing for the next chapter, since this one seemed to be in between. Hopefully, once this is posted, I'll be able to get back to the ending of Mamihlapinatapai and post a chapter as I was supposed to.

A frown marred the gorgeous red-haired woman’s brow as she came to a halt. She was impeccably dressed in a tight pantsuit, her white crisp blouse’s collar was high. With a wave of her hand, her soft rose-gold hair was thrown to the side of her neck, cascading down her back in rich, perfect curls. Her impeccably done eyebrow raised, as did her hand. The one that wasn’t covered by heavy-looking rings, but had just one. A cigarette holder graciously placed on her long finger, and that kept one thin white roll of nicotine and mint, that she had made herself earlier that morning. The filter touched red-tinted lips, and her cheeks hollowed as the tip turned in a bright shade of fiery.

Everything in this woman exuded elegance, including the hand poised on her hips with practiced ease. She freed the smoke -part from her nose and part from delicately parted lips- that had caressed her lungs. With one last look at the tinted glass across the street, she squared her shoulders gracefully, and her heels clicked as she moved closer towards her intended destination.

The High Priestess of the Order of Hecate was given a mission. One she didn’t quite know how to approach. Yet, one she couldn’t say no to when her Goddess had not only allowed her to bring her sister back from the nether realm but her niece from the afterlife.

A week and a few days earlier, after living in the quiet stillness of the emptiness she called home, Zelda Spellman had fallen to her knees. Breaking her usual haughty demeanor, the High Priestess had painfully pleaded over her own pitiful cries. In her mourning, she had claimed to her Goddess that there was not a thing she was unwilling to do in exchange for Sabrina’s life.

Her Goddess had answered, with a light petting caress on her head, and that filled her with the sudden urge to grab a shovel and excavate her niece’s casket out of the unholy ground of her last resting place. “Go, child,” she thought she’d heard, and almost out of instinct, that was what she’d done.

The moment her shovel had reached the coffin, she had worked twice as hard as she heard the pleading sobs of her niece for someone to free her. “Sabrina, calm down. I’m placing a spell in there, so you don’t run out of oxygen. I’ll get you out before you notice. Just try to relax, okay, sweetie?” She said in the tone she’d used to console her as a child. Tears left her eyes at their own accord, blurring her work but not stopping her.

“Auntie Zee, I knew you’ll come to get me.” Her niece had said still buried but alive. Zelda had to fight with her own knees that had become mush at this, convincing herself to find the strength to continue her work. Not quite believing what was happening.

Dinner happened then after she had coddled her niece and called her sister to come over, to return home at once. The sole presence of their niece brought the light back to her sister’s eyes. Her nephew had also appeared from wherever he had disappeared, if only not to survive with the void that the youngest of them had left behind with her untimely departure.

The Goddess was kind with them, allowing them first, and their coven later, to celebrate the return of their lost child. Although, her former beau couldn’t be brought back because of his own more self-centered way of departing to the afterlife.

The joy had filled them all in ways that were long lost and now seemed to simmer from deep inside them, and Zelda Spellman had almost forgotten about her own part on the return of Sabrina. 

Until the previous night. It was then, when sitting in front of her vanity while going through her nightly routine, that she felt a presence in her room.

“There’s a mortal,” Hecate’s voice had resounded in her head. “She’s been directing a Church. Misguiding innocents with the tales of the man who dared to bring you to your knees and to summon the Eldritch Terrors…” Zelda’s heart had gotten stuck in her throat wondering if her Goddess would be a vengeful one, and would ask her to get rid of such a nuisance. A mortal that could expose them all could be nothing but a fly to the Goddess desires. Yet, the next words that Zelda heard came right out of the left field. “Convert her.” 

“Co-convert her?” She had asked, but at the end, she simply nodded her agreement. Converting one mortal to Hecate’s path should be a piece of cake. Especially one who already had fallen for Faustus’s charm before. 

Zelda had been so cocky, so sure that her part of the deal would be done sooner rather than later, that she had forgotten how expensive one life can be. Even for a Spellman.


	2. Chapter 2

Once upon a time, when the veil between the mortal realm and the witches’ realm wasn’t so carefully kept down. In the middle of the woods of the ancient country, in a quaint little cottage, lived the Spellmans.

Their family had coined their name even further in time, when the veil wasn’t even needed and people from distant lands would come to their several times’ great grandfather’s home, in search of some ointments and cures for the most diverse and rare of the ailments.

‘The Spell man can help you,’ would be whispered in the town, and mortals would come to search for him and a piece of their magic.

But mortals were jealous and for their own safety, the witches and their most diverse Gods had agreed that protection was needed, and, together, they placed the first thin veil between the realms.

Now, centuries later, when the veil was growing thick, yet, the Spellmans continued to work in between the realms. They remained as one of the few families allowed to live in both realms at the same time. Only because their jobs in their communities were deeply appreciated and had, in the past, brought over several willing souls to the Dark Lord’s cause.

Dawn had long since settled. There was no light other than the pale one coming from the half-crescent moon. The stars polluted the dark sky and clouds moved fast. “It’s going to rain,” one girl announced morosely, as she looked to the blackness longingly.

A thin, short blond girl moved quickly to cuddle up to her bigger sister, peeking outside and giggling, “it will not rain, Zelds. Look all those stars!”

Just as if the redhead's words had been ominous, a thunder fell close enough to be felt by them. “Zelda Spellman, what have you done?” Her brother stood up, looking at her, searching for any tricks she might have pulled. A thin eyebrow rose defiantly, “that wasn’t me, Edward, it was just nature.” She shrugged.

“Someone is coming,” the blonde girl announced then, and they all clambered to the window of their room, trying to steal a glance of whoever might visit them.

“Ah, it’s that silly mortal... Lady Marianne. It seems, at last, she has found her way here.” Edward stated, walking away from the window and flopping himself on his bed.

Rain poured almost suddenly, they could hear thunder nearing, and then there was a knock at their door.

The ruckus continued, stronger and faster, growing desperate as the simple rain became a storm. They heard their parents’ footsteps as they crossed the hallways towards the stairs. And then the loud cries of the woman.

While Edward Spellman turned around, curling in bed and falling asleep, his sisters curiously tiptoed out of the room.

The young woman, Lady Marianne, was crying in their foyer. She hung from their mother’s neck unconsolable. The witch rolled her eyes and muttered a calming spell, so the girl could finally tell them what in Heaven had brought her to them in such a night.

“My heart has been poisoned by the most painful of the ailments,” Lady Marianne said. “It’s a feeling that consumes me whole, I cannot breathe, I cannot eat, I cannot sleep... My heart and my mind are intoxicated by him... and he, he doesn’t return it. He doesn’t even know I exist.”

The Spellmans had shared a knowing look. “Love,” the father stated with disdain. “We have two solutions for your ail.” The mother said. “We can make you stop feeling or we can make him fall for you.” At this latter option, the blue eyes of the woman rose, shimmering with hope.

“I want to be in love, as my sisters have. I want him to love me,” Lady Marianne stated. 

Moving aside, the Spellmans spoke in soft words that their children by the stairs wouldn’t hear.

“Remember, child, even a sickness like love... comes with a price. There’s nothing in your realm or in ours that can be without one if it’s not freely given.” Their mother had stated. Lady Marianne nodded eagerly, her tears still streaming down her pale face steadily. “Come back tomorrow night. We’ll have something for you by then. The potion we will craft for you can only be consumed during a dark moon.”

The woman was dismissed and as their parents got to work; the girls rushed to their rooms, each with their thoughts running a mile per hour after what they just witnessed. Both hoping to see the results of their parents’ magic on a willing mortal in such a thing as love.

Mortals came and went by their house begging for love potions. Their parents had warned them several times that love was a disease that spread through mortals faster than the flu. However, contrary to the flu, they wanted to have it. They wanted to tie their souls to another being as the Spellmans had -or would- to the Dark Lord. “A simple desire to be something they are not,” their father had added with derision the last time Hilda had asked.

It wasn’t until after the next Dark Moon when they saw that magic -that disease- happen. Lady Marianne invited them to their wedding in a show of gratitude towards their parents.

All three of the Spellman kids had dressed in their nicest clothes and they had joined the celebration. Zelda Spellman had the same expression of disgust as her father had.

The (hexed) groom looked at Lady Marianne adoringly. Following her around as a lost and wound puppy would. “What are you looking at, Zelds?” the younger of the Spellman’s asked in her cheery voice. “Him. Blindly trailing behind her, as if he doesn’t see how ridiculous it is than before he had never found her attractive and now he fawns over her as if she’s the most gorgeous woman of this stupid town.”

“He is in love, Zelds! Of course, he will look at her like that.” The older sister looked at the little one with a sideways glare, rolling her eyes at the naiveness of her sister. “That’s magic, Hilda. He loves her because Mother and Father made him. Anyway, if love is losing yourself like this...” she shuddered.

“Whatever you say, Zelds. I just can’t wait to fall in love too!” Hilda clapped eagerly, looking at the newly formed couple kissed in front of everyone sealing their marriage.

“I never want to be in love...” Zelda stated with distaste painted all over her face.


	3. Chapter 3

Zelda Spellman stopped herself in front of the painted glass of the Pilgrims of the Night Church. Her nose scrunched up in distaste at the mockery of the name that Faustus had coined for it, and to the blatant mockery of him, Judas and Leticia… _Judith_ … dressed as pilgrims as the image of their logo.

Not giving herself time to dwell on it -on him- and not glancing inside, as she later would regret that she didn’t. Zelda opened the door with certainty that she was going to find some dumb mortal that would be easily brainwashed out of her ex-husband’s tales and into novel ways of living inside the Order of Hecate. Because of course, a Goddess with an ancient history was far more believable than whatever ludicrous story that Faustus might have come up with.

The redhead’s eyes fell from chipped church pews to the floor planks that were covered by a not-so-thin layer of dust. There was a wooden pulpit right in the middle of the small stage that served as an altar warded by two giant banners that hung at the back wall. A thick tome sat proudly on the pulpit.

Candles littered every available surface, and if she was to give punctuation, even with the lamps hanging from the ceiling, the place was a zero in illumination. Just like Faustus liked his environments. She shuddered at the memory that it brought as her eyes lowered to the black worn-out carpet only added to the ambiance.

Her eyes finally fell on the figure kneeling at the low of the steps, head cast down in prayer. Dark hair thickly tightened in an untidy bun. A few rebellious strands escaping their keepers and falling to cover the face of the woman, who despite having listened to the cheap doorbells that had chimed at the moment the doors had forcefully opened -as if it was a store and not a church- had not stopped her prayer until she finished it.

There was something in the way the dark mane was curled up in that messy updo, the way the soft woolen sweater hugged the body, and how any resemblance of the womanly figure beyond the waist was eaten by a skirt that could be old enough to belong to a pre-teen Zelda. However, it wasn’t until the woman turned around that a memory came back, hitting the High Priestess like a ton of bricks.

The woman she had to convert faced her, pushing thick glasses up her nose with a hand and shoving with a trembling hand the unruly strands of hair behind her ear.

Zelda blanched several shades when she faced the one who had dared to kill her, now smiling softly at her as if she had never confronted her with a gun at her own foyer. The redhead’s heart raced in her chest, and she found herself fighting for air.

“Hi, welcome! I haven’t seen you before in town. Are you just moving in? I’m Mary Wardwell,” the woman said, adding more phrases as she saw the woman she could only describe as one gorgeous ginger stared at her with something akin to panic written all over her palling face, and guarded stance. As if instead of finding solace she had seen a horrifying ghost inside the church.

The only thing Zelda could do was a one-eighty turn, walking away from that church as fast as she could. As mysteriously as she had appeared, if someone was to ask about her to Mary.

As far as she could and as far as she wanted were two very distinct things. Zelda wanted to rush out and hide under the cover of the fluffiest of the duvets she could find feeling like a lost puppy who had just been confronted with the brunt side of the ill humanity. However, you cannot outrun your own mind.

Zelda needed to think or stop thinking altogether. To breathe and stop gasping for air like a drowning woman… She reached as far as the first alley and turning quickly into it, she let herself rest against one wall. That she hadn’t even taken into consideration the state of such a wall was a dead giveaway of how rattled she was.

“Aren’t you a wrathful Goddess!” She mumbled under her breath as she struggled to control it. A hand raised as if to will her heart stop racing.

There was a rich laugh that reverberated through her skull as if was an opera house and the laughter, the main singer playing with the color of her voice.

“All Gods are,” Hecate’s voice came to her in a soft, caring whisper. “Including myself. However, my child, contrary to your past God, I’ll never push you to do anything you aren’t ready for. Nothing that I’ll command will be ever to harm you.”

“That’s not reassuring at all,” she barked a laugh, not quite paying attention to how crazy she would look if someone was to walk by right then.

“Oh, but it is. Isn’t it? To know that you are ready for more than just facing her or finding her in the farmer’s market before running away. Child, you are so much braver than you realize. I’ve been watching your every step since you’ve been born. Knowing that one day, you’d come to me. I couldn’t hope for a better High Priestess when I’ve seen you endure and survive so much.”

“Alas... I don’t think I can fulfill this one for you, Dark Mother.” Zelda said, pressing the back of her hand against her forehead.

“Yet, you gave your word to me. You promised me to do anything at all if I brought your niece back.” She remarked. There was no bite or pressure in her words, just quiet confidence that slowly was sweeping through Zelda’s old bones.

“I’m a woman of my word, Mother. I will convert her to your order, even if I die along the way.” Zelda swore with intent.

“Such a feisty creature. There won’t be a need for dying... although... perhaps there will be hundreds of petite-morts,” Hecate added almost as in an afterthought. “You mustn’t do it today, sweet child. You must take it a day at the time, after all, Rome -nor any mortal empire, really- wasn’t built in a day. We are far older than this town, and we’ll last centuries more. There’s time. There’s no pressure, I won’t take your niece away as long as you make your best efforts into converting this woman.”

“Why there’s such an interest in this woman?” Zelda asked. Wondering why Mary Wardwell, the one who killed her, the one Lilith had killed and brought back to life after impersonating her for months, was now of importance to her own Goddess.

There was another laugh. “You’ll find out as you try to fulfill your task. Come along now, High Priestess. They wait for you at the Academy and it doesn’t suit you to be morosely hiding in a dark, dirty alley. Not any longer.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are life... or something like that :)


End file.
